


Wild Things

by LinguistLove_24



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, F/F, Implied Relationships, Lesbian Character, No Dialogue, Post-Break Up, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 17:12:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9395168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinguistLove_24/pseuds/LinguistLove_24
Summary: "Some called her wild, some the ever talked about crazy ex girlfriend. Ex girlfriends could be wild things in and of themselves, and she wasn't one to cower quietly if she were double crossed."Miranda Lambert's "Mama's broken heart" and a few too many sips of beer saw this one flowing from my fingertips.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This original work of fiction is the respective property of its author, should not be used or replicated in any way without prior consent and is not intended to bear resemblance to any actual persons or circumstances.

Wild Things

Lindsay Schultz had always been more than a little bit dramatic. As a young child, she'd been described by many a disgruntled neighbour or parent as spoiled; wanted what she wanted when she wanted it, and that was that. Mother and father had tried mercilessly to correct such behaviour, and though they'd succeeded somewhat in curbing it, many aspects of her personality only intensified as she made her way into the teen years. 

 

All through high school she'd had relationships back to back with both men and women, but rarely would she bring anybody home. Her family would ask light hearted questions about her flavour of the month while eating pot roast at the dinner table, only to find the next time they did so they were asking those things of someone else entirely. Ironically, when she'd finally vocalised that they wouldn't hear of any more male suitors round the table and come out as a lesbian, a life event which would see most people running scared, she'd made the least amount of fuss she'd ever done.

 

At twenty five, most aspects of her personality hadn't changed to any large degree, and since it was said the brain stopped developing at that age, they probably wouldn't. By now, her parents had accepted who and how she was, and though they chastised and disagreed with her rather loudly more often than not, they went on loving her. 

 

She wasn't sure they'd love her after the consequences of the situation she found herself standing in came to fruition, but true to her nature, part of her didn't much care. Two weeks previously, she'd discovered that the woman she'd been entangled with longer than any other (six months, complete exclusivity, and she hadn't gotten bored!!) had been two timing her for much of the duration of their relationship. Even though most people would probably say the term 'relationship' loosely fit their arrangement, she defined it as such, and even though she'd done the same thing to other people she'd found herself in the company of she was angry that this one had nerve enough to do it to her. 

 

She'd still had the duplicate key her ex had made for her when she'd found out about her infidelity, decided not to give it back so hastily. Dana had either forgotten she had it or hadn't bothered to ask for it. Neither was her problem, and she used that, and her pent up anger, to her advantage. 

 

Standing in Dana Wellington's spacious one bedroom apartment had her anger boiling over. If it were visible, it would show itself as lava coating every possible surface, thick layers under her feet. Making her way into each room in turn, she'd overturned tables, lamps, bookcases, roughed up the pillows, even hissed at her mean old cat when he'd looked at her the wrong way. She'd taken fistfuls of clothing from dresser drawers and shredded them, left the pieces lying everywhere. Most people would say she was crazy, and maybe they weren't far wrong. 

 

For as long as she could remember, people had painted her with whatever strokes they'd seen fit, brushes broad and all encompassing. Black or white were the only two colours of choice in most people's minds, and they'd tried to turn her into one or the other. Eventually, she'd grown tired and decided to be so much of something that they wouldn't be able to paint or categorise it at all. Some called her wild, some the ever talked about crazy ex girlfriend. Ex girlfriends could be wild things in and of themselves, and she wasn't one to cower quietly if she were double crossed.

 

Part of her knew what she was doing made her look like she'd gone more than a little off the deep end, knew that her Mum wouldn't hear the end of it from the rest of the ladies in her small, gossipy, neighbouring town if somehow her actions got back to them. But when she got started, she often couldn't stop. Mother would tell her to handle herself like a lady rather than punishing her liver before going out and acting regrettably, not to let anybody see her break or cry, that there were worse and far more important things than revenge and break ups to occupy your mind, but she'd been cut from a different cloth, and this wasn't her Mum's broken heart to handle.


End file.
